The sparkdrone experiment
by Lanny-Sama
Summary: Somewhere on Cybertron, a collection of scientists are tasked with creating the perfect soldier. This story is an alternate origin for Shockwave, and updates will be daily until it is finished - 6 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

His first time onlining was on an examination berth. From one klik to another; there was awareness. N4 onlined silently, and looked around the room, taking in every single detail. There was a thing standing next to his resting place. Cybertronian. Mech. Berth. Memory cores flared up, and controlled bursts of pre-installed information washed through him.

He and the other mech were in a small grey room with a single black door and several machines standing against the walls. There was a single round lamp on the ceiling that shone into N4's optic, and automatic systems recalibrated its sensitivity. There was a cool weight against his back, -A berth- and there was a table next to him.

The mech _-doctor, professor, scientist-_ was standing next to his berth with a gray-blue box _-scanner, device, medical-_ and moving it steadily over N4's helm.

"...Hello. Can you speak?"

N4's processor gave him a long list of possible answers, and after a short pause, N4 went for the most fitting one. "Affirmative." He droned. The doctor nodded, and he made a quick note on the nearby computer terminal.

"Are all your systems online and functioning?"

N4's automated check-up came back clear. "Affirmative. All systems are operational." He answered. The doctor hummed happily, and N4 kept his optic resting on the mech. His processors attempted to pull up information regarding the mech, but the pre-installed packages of information had nothing to offer. N4 shook his head slightly. "I retract my previous statement- malfunction. I am lacking memory files regarding designation, locations, common history and otherwise vital information."

The doctor made a short sound _-chortle, laugh, chuckle-_ , and moved his servo behind N4's helm. N4 felt the mech's fingers moving there, and he tried to move his optic so he could see what was going on. His systems informed him that his motor controls were offline, so he could only stare blankly as the doctor worked. The doctor-bot pulled something loose and grabbed a small device, sending a short zap through N4's systems.

"And now?"

N4's limbs were moving a little from the shock, but he focused his attentions on his processor. His memory cores were already working to file newly received information, and his logic-centre activated with a newly installed processor patch; _missing information; to be required through questioning, download, or experience. Missing information is not a malfunction unless memory core states that memory files have been removed or altered. _

The patch settled seamlessly in his helm, and N4 looked at the doctor.

"Inquiry; designation?"

"Yesssss, that's good!" The mech made a note, and his denta were showing in what N4's pre-installed information named a grin. "I'm Cutwire, but you'll refer to me as creator Cutwire. Got that?" N4 nodded, and saved Cutwire's designation to his memorybanks, together with a small folder detailing the mech's faceplate and colourscheme. "Now, N4. Tell me your primary directives."

N4 answered before he even realised he had pulled information from his databanks. "To study, to examine, to explore, to collect and to discover." The doctor seemed pleased, and he noted a new more things on the terminal.

"Please activate your basic vocal program." N4's optic flickered for a brief second and searched his memorybanks for the appropriate file. A small package quickly presented itself and he installed it.

"Program. Installed." His droning voice was now replaced by a dry and calm voice with a strange accent that was absent from Cutwire's speech. N4 eagerly noted it as his subject of study. "Continuing primary directives."

Cutwire didn't say anything, and N4's single optic tracked the mech as he went around the room, making notes and passing the scanner over N4's frame. Cutwire's reactions were being methodically filed in N4's 'discovery' files, and the coding to explore and experiment were burning in his processor.

What could he do with the programming patch on his voice? If he turned off his basic vocal program, would creator Cutwire notice? Would there be a new patch installed ? Would the old one be deleted?

Cutwire moved again, and N4 tried to reach out and touch the mech. His limbs still would not move and he stayed flat on the berth. N4's optic reset, and programs started running faster, eventually spitting out a few blinking lines of text.

_Malfunction detected. Primary directive compromised. Report malfunction to creators. _

"Creator Cutwire. Execution of primary programs impossible without motor control." N4 had slipped back into monotone, and creator Cutwire started a little. N4's processor noted that Cutwire's plating had seized up again, and the tidbit of information was compressed and neatly filed away.

"Huh? Oh- well, that is because we didn't know if your new body would listen to you. You could have damaged the frame when you woke up."

"Acknowledged."

Cutwire moved behind N4, and there were a couple of resounding clicks sounding through his helm. Then the doctor moved to the limbs, and started unfastening the restraints there. "Okay N4, be careful when you start moving. It's disorienting for new drones."

Standing proved to be no problem, and N4's pre-installed packages helped him through it. Cutwire was all over him, measuring and touching every part of his body while simultaneously making nonsense statements. N4 discredited all of them, and when Cutwire stood back up he looked satisfied.

"Logic centres are definitely working, no sign of the previous glitches, good. Are you executing your primary functions?"

"Affirmative. Discovery, exploration, study and experimentation has been in effect since onlining. Most common subject of study; creator Cutwire." That had an interesting effect on Cutwire. The doctor's optics were a little narrowed, and the corners of his mouth had turned downwards.

"Ah I see. That's good." He said, and he wrote something on his datapad. He pushed N4 back towards the berth. "Sit on the berth."

N4 did as he asked, and Cutwire started filling his ports with cables from all the machines in the room. More programming patches were installed, and N4 took everything in like he was designed to do.

At 1 joor, 22 breems, 21 kliks and 12 nanokliks, Cutwire put him back on the berth, and sent a line of code that shut down all his systems, and returned his world to the way it had been before his optic had come online.


	2. Chapter 2

Discovery was the most insistent of the three primary objectives that N4 possessed. It was the first thing that pinged his processor when Cutwire onlined him each starting cycle.

As soon as the last cables were disconnected from his CPU, his frame started itching to go where he hadn't been before, and to touch the endless possibilities from the information outside his room.

His frame had been moved to a new room after his first onlining. It had no machines. It had three grey walls and one black-gray wall. One door, one table, one chair, and a panel that hid cables from his view and touch. N4 always woke in the chair, with Cutwire behind him and his hands splayed out on the table next to a new stack of datapads.

Today was no different. Another day of discovery and exploration- limited to the contents of the datapads that were waiting for him each day. They were not sufficient any longer. Cutwire had given him additional datapads before leaving, but the manner in which the data was compiled made it redundant and old. N4's experimentation programming wanted to combine and mix the loose strands of code, but the results were predictable and stale.

N4 had notified creator Cutwire, and a cycle earlier, Cutwire had allowed N4 to touch his faceplate. N4 had made a detailed report regarding the textures, flexibility, temperature, and anything he could think of, but it only made his programming ache for more new things to discover.

His finger-sensors had long ago mapped every single part of the datapad's surface, and he had detailed sensor logs of everything else inside his cubicle as well. The floor, the bolts in the wall, the buttons on the lockpad, the feel of the wall that felt different than the other three. The sound of the different buttons from Cutwire's equipment and the lockpad buttons, the different possible combinations with a 9-numerical keypad.

N4 needed to see more, it was in his programming. He stood, left the datapad on the table, and walked over to the lockpad next to the door. He was familiar with the feel of every button and every texture, and he entered the code that he had spied from Cutwire. The recognisable beep from the door sounded, and it slid aside.

New air, moving air, rushed by N4's dermal sensors, and his processors immediately started documenting. He stood in the doorway for a few kliks, running his hand along the inside of the doorframe before continuing.

The floor in the hallway was of the same texture of the one he had in his room, and he ignored it. The ceiling was higher than in his room, and the lamps were different. The hallways was long and there were more doors. Next to each door was a window, a see-through part of the wall. He leaned forward, eager to document, and touched it.

His programming soared as he recognised the texture from the third wall in his cubicle. He cycled his optic, and touched the material. He could see into his room through this window, but he had never had a window in his room. He pulled up the old logs regarding the wall, and he rubbed his hands searchingly over the surface. It felt the same, but looked different. What would be its use? Why would it be here?

He walked back inside his room, and the window was gone, replaced by the darker-tinted wall. His fingers itched to take it all apart, but a distant -undocumented- sound caught his attention, and he drew away from the strange material. He had the logs. What was important now, was more discovery! He could wander for eternity, he would wander for eternity.

There were more doors like the one he had come from, with numbers pasted on, and the same not-window windows. The urge to stop at every door and every window was compelling, but the undocumented sounds further down the hall held higher priority than in-depth study. N4 walked down the short end of the hallway, and found that the paths split in two. His programming soared, and his pace quickened.

Doorway after doorway, hallway after room after hallway were all mapped and documented in his memorybanks, and N4 drifted in his element. There was nothing to do but follow the urge in his systems and the sounds that were always different, always just up ahead, alluring and undocumented.

He walked and stopped at every unlogged thing he found. With how repetitive the halls were, and how few not-window windows were around, it didn't take long before he simply walked.

"Fragging piece of scrap, give that here!" A voice echoed down the hallway, and N4's processors were immediately focused on the source. It was not creator Cutwire's voice, but it had a resonance that was similar to the murmuring N4 had heard coming from Cutwire's earpiece.

Cutwire liked to talk to the murmuring voices in his earpiece, and N4 had been informed that it was a common method of communication between Cybertronian bots. N4 had asked for the designation of the mech on the other side of the commlink, and Cutwire had told him it was Hammertop.

N4 had never seen Hammertop, and the datafile he kept about the mech-subject was nothing but recordings of soft murmurs from Cutwire's earpiece. N4 sped up and followed the voice down the hall, where a single door was ajar. Inside, he found Hammertop and a purple mech with a single yellow optic. Both mechs were pulling at one end of a thick cable with all their might.

"Glitching pile of slag- give that here!" Hammertop growled.

"Negative. Interference with primary objective unacceptable." The purple ech replied, and the bot pulled at the cable again. Hammertop released a string of nonsensical words and realeased the cable with an aggravated growl. The purple bot cradled it to his chassis, and Hammertop yelled as he jabbed his fingers into the computer terminal. "Cutwire, get your aft over here, N2 is glitching. You fragged the programming again!"

N4 watched as the purple bot gathered the cable in his arms, and brought them to the other end of the room, where a small pile of other unconnected items was already collected. N4 recognised one of the items as the lock-pad that was probably supposed to keep the door closed instead of leaking. The purple bot immediately returned from the pile and attempted to grab Hammertop's datapad.

Hammertop was trying to talk with Cutwire, type, and keep his datapad from the grabby bot. "No, you do the reprogram- you're the one that insisted on a 'hoard' experiment so you're going to-"

"Interference with primary directive is not allowed." The purple mech interrupted, and he yanked at Hammertop's datapad.

"Glitched pile of SPARE PARTS!" Hammertop screamed, and he pulled the datapad from the purple mech's grip. The purple mech fell forward, and Hammertop's pede came down on the bot's unprotected neck. It snapped in a weird angle, and N4 soaked up the scene in fascination as the purple mech tried to reach for the datapad again. He was not moving all his limbs, and the machines in the room were blaring warnings.

Hammertop sighed, and deactivated the blaring alarm beeps. "Fine. _Fine._ I'll wipe it for you. Soft-afted slagface..." Hammertop set the datapad out of reach and grabbed N2 around the neck. He uncoiled his cables, and plugged them into the back of N2's helm.

The one-opticed bot convulsed, and N4 watched as sparks of electricity zapped from the purple bot's helm. A few moments later the purple frame went slack and motionless, and Hammertop dropped the purple bot to the floor. N4 could still hear its systems cycling, but the purple bot didn't move a muscle. Hammertop sighed and stood up. "Right. He's reformatted. You'll have to get him jumpstarted before you try a new pro-"

Hammertop had turned around and was now staring right at N4. N4 watched his animated faceplate go completely still, and eagerly documented every single klik. "... Cutwire- what the frag is one of your drones doing out of its cubicle?!" Hammertop hissed into his communicator. N4 heard Cutwire mumbling back, and he recorded the muffled sounds for Cutwire's file. Hammertop glared at him.

"State your fragging number."

"N4, creator Hammertop."

Hammertop immediately turned back to his commlink. "It's N4. Please tell me that's not the one you programmed with-..." Hammertop paused. "What-... I don't care if it means his programming is working correctly! Get over here and fix your messes! I'm tired of-... Just get down here. I'm going to go on a break." Hammertop narrowed his eyes as Cutwire answered, and finally the commlink conversation stopped completely.

"You." He snapped at N4. "Primary directive override. Stay. Here." He jabbed his finger at the ground, and N4 dutifully stepped onto the designated patch of floor. Hammertop walked past him, and stalked down the hallway. N4 waited, and started to compile the hoards of data that he had found.

N4 was still processing the new data by the time Cutwire arrived. His creator looked stricken, and he carefully guided N4 back towards his old cubicle. N4 observed that Cutwire stood in front of the lock this time, and the logged rhythm of Cutwire punching in the code was different this time. N4 logged this discovery and a few moments later Cutwire was connecting all the recharge cables. Compared to previously observed cycles, it was half a cycle too early for recharge.


	3. Chapter 3

Experimentation was the only option left.

Discovery had been put on hold by Cutwire. N4 had attempted the door, but the code was different, and Cutwire was careful about typing in the code. N4 resided inside the same cubicle that he had already discovered from roof to bottom. There were new datapads on his table, like there were every day, but there was no appeal.

N4 was a discoverer by programming, and two cycles after the door lock had been changed, he had found the algorithm that changed the datapad's content. He knew all 1023908 rotations of data that the datapad could make. It held nothing new for him, but the hallway behind the door led to unexplored places. He could not go behind the door, so the only thing he could do, was attempt to create something new by using what he had already discovered. Thus, the experimentation subroutines became active.

The datapads were the best subjects, and N4 started prying one apart. The screen flickered off and small parts fell out from the device. N4 touched the components and turned them over in his hands, the door lock all but forgotten as he explored the inside of the datapad.

Fluids from the device were leaking out and a few of the parts seemed broken. N4 carefully lined them up on the table before him, and held each part against the next.

For every action there was a reaction, and N4's programming was urging him to find all reactions there could ever be.

A curled stick of metal in the fluid? No reaction besides the fluid sticking to the metal. The fluid on his finger? No reaction but the fluid sticking to his finger. One stick crossed with a wire? No reaction. A drop of fluid in a puddle of fluid ? Larger puddle of fluid. N4 continued, and made a careful log of each and every component he tested.

He would have to include the floor, and the door, and the windows, and the doorlock. Enthusiastically, N4 set to his work, and combined the broken datapad with everything in his reach. The buttons on the lock system were scratched, covered in the datapad's fluids, jiggled, poked, ripped out, put back... and then there were no more combinations his programming could think of.

The entire room looked like a massacre. Datapad fluids were smeared on every surface of the room, and countless tiny parts from the datapads were strewn around or arranged in meaningless little heaps.

N4 was not used to being hampered in his primary directives. He had been programmed and designed to discover, explore and experiment- and having nothing to explore was a state of being he had no programming to deal with. N4 ran his programming again, looking for any combinations or places he had not yet discovered.

The answer came rather suddenly, as he watched a drop of fluid falling off his hand.

N4 grabbed a thin metal stick that had been part of a datapad, and prodded it in between the seams of his plating. The narrow point pricked, and his systems sent him a warning that he carefully catalogued as he jabbed the stick in harder. Something broke inside of his hand, and a blue-ish liquid started spilling out.

It was fascinating, and it reminded him of the fuel-line that Cutwire connected to his throat each morning. If he needed it every day, where did it go? Could it be stockpiled? Where was it inside his frame? How did it work?

He moved to the port where Cutwire jacked in the fuel-line, and started tearing at the small plates that closed it off. Jolts of painful warnings were running up his sensornet, and he wondered how each part of his body would hurt-

"-tha frag is it DOING?!"

The door to his cubicle was torn open and two of the creators came barreling towards him. He recognised Cutwire easily, but the other one was new. The new one was broader than Cutwire, and his voice had a weird accent. Before N4 could ask for this creator's designation, the mech grabbed his arms and pulled them behind N4's back, while Cutwire was hastily unspooled his connection cable. "-no idea! I don't understand how this could have happened, I made sure the datapad had enough files to sort through for decacycles! This shouldn't be happening at all-"

As Cutwire plugged in his cable, N4 felt his systems slacking. The power to his limbs was cut, and his head fell aside as his neck no longer knew how to keep it up. N4 waited as he felt Cutwire running through his logs and files. He tried to see over his creator's shoulder, but a heavy wall of coding prevented him from joining his creator in his discovery.

He tried to note it in his memorybanks, even as parts of his processor were locked down by Cutwire. This too was something that going to be discovered- the insides of his processor. It was the next thing on his discovery list right after he was done with investigating his frame.

Cutwire sighed and pulled back. He left the cable in. "Frag. Well, it's something I was going to fix within the next few days, but I might have to go for a clean-wipe. It ran out of stuff to discover, so the experiment option mingled in, and it's been trying to discover itself by practically tearing his circuits out." Cutwire sighed exasparatedly and pulled his cable roughly from N4's port. It hurt, but N4 could still not move.

"Hey Bolt? Did you finish the new coding for N1?" N4 noted the designation of the bulky mech as Bolt.

"Uh, well, kind of? It's, uh, not perfect, but it's functional." Bolt said.

"Install it on N4, it should prevent all that self-disassembly slag, and if it doesn't you'll know that something in the code needs to be tweaked." Cutwire frowned and turned his head. N4 could hear the angry murmurs from Hammertop leaking through. "Oh, hey Hammertop, what is it?... Oh for Primus- I just installed a patch! N2 can't be back to hoarding stuff this soon, I worked that glitch out of the system five patches ago-!... Fine, fine! I'll be there in a minute."

Cutwire looked at Bolt. "N2's not working again. Can you do the install?"

"Uh, sure I guess." Bolt was carefully unspooling his connection cable, and N4 noted that it was a good finger's-length away from where Cutwire's cable was located.

"Thanks mech! I'll see you at lunch, ok?" Cutwire went out the door, and his pedesteps disappeared down the alluring hallway of discovery. N4's programming urged for him to follow, but his body remained unresponsive.

Bolt connected his cable to N4's processor without a hitch and N4 watched from behind the protective coding walls as the new creator started spilling coding inside his helm, filling a few of his memory cores with new programming. Boltwrench pulled out his cord more gently than Cutwire, and started plugging in the recharge cables. It was too early again. N4 watched the lines of code flashing by his HUD as the new patch installed.

_/Primary objective added; Survival pckge – v. 00.2 b _

_/installing..._

0oo0

The next time N4 onlined, everything was different. Where normally his discovery programming activated, there was now a new string of code pushing itself to the front, urging his systems to online as quickly as possible

His optic shot online without calibrating, and the light from the room coloured everything in a sharp white. The new code ran a self-diagnostic even as he whipped his head around to scan the room for possible danger.

It was the same room as it had been on the cycles before. One chair, one table, and Cutwire standing besides him as he removed the last few cables from N4's processor. Cutwire was looking intently at him, and he grabbed N4's helm to flick a quick scan over him.

"Project N4, vocalise state of processors and coding." He said.

"...Coding in effect." N4 answered after a short moment. "Self-preservation programs efficiently installed and running."

Cutwire nodded. "Good... good..." He scribbled something on his datapad.

N4 watched him, and a moment later his internal scans pinged him to let him know they were finished.

His frame was in optimal condition, except for a selection of broken parts in his right servo. He had files in his memorybanks where he himself had been testing the limits of his sensornet. The logs from that memory stated that he had been following core programming.

With a newly installed self-preservation program active, N4 wanted to throttle his old self. The destruction of one of his own parts could lead to decrease in survivability and eventually in his offlining! Offlining was the only thing he had to avoid.

The new program had shunted the other directives to the back of his processor, leaving one directive to rule over the rest; survival.

Cutwire approached him, and N4's frame tensed as his new programming detected a threat. The doctor grabbed and tilted N4's helm, and N4 became aware of the amount of delicate wires and ports that were exposed for the mech to do with as he wanted.

The survival programming was flashing warnings at him, and N4's processors struggled with thousands of calculations and comparisons to previously collected files.

N4 wanted to stand up and throw the other mech away from him, but Cutwire's circuitry was hidden under thick layers of painted metal, and N4 had not plating whatsoever. In combat against Cutwire, he would offline. Doing as the mech wanted would extend his survival.

His survival programming continued to whirl like a storm in his processor, but N4 he dutifully tilted his head so Cutwire had easier access.

Survive. That was all that mattered. Surviving.

N4's programming almost went haywire when Cutwire slid a cable into his port, but N4 reigned it in, and watched like a cornered beast as his creator started roaming through his processor.

Cutwire could wipe everything with a few simple commands. A single step out of line, a step too quick or too slow- and there would be no more N4.

Cutwire himself was using his commlink, and N4 could vaguely hear Bolt's voice murmuring from Cutwire's earpiece. "Hm?... Oh, alright. It looks good so far though, it'll be fine. I'll let you know how it goes." Cutwire's optics stared right into N4's single optic, and his optic ridges were raised. "N4?"

"Yes, creator Cutwire?" N4 answered politely.

"Why don't you continue your explorating and experimenting on your own frame?" He asked with a smile.

N4's frame jerked, and his programming surged. This was a test, his logic-coding supplied, a simple test of the newly installed program. As long as he complied he would live. N4 turned his optic to creator Cutwire and stated in a tight voice; "That command interferes with my self-preservation coding. I cannot comply."

Cutwire nodded appreciatively. "Good!" He activated his commlink. "Looks like it works Bolt. Still, you probably add in some sort of 'creator override' on this thing's programming, just in case."

He turned back to N4, and N4 could feel a cable being pulled loose that he hadn't felt while it was seated in his port. Cutwire didn't seem to notice it when N4's hands clenched into fists.

"Here, your discovery stuff for today." Cutwire set down a datapad and a few strangely shaped iron things. N4 reached for them immediately, to seem as normal as Cutwire expected him to be, and tried to run his discovery-programs as the doctor watched.

Cutwire lingered for a little longer than usual, but eventually the doctor typed the unlock code into the doorlock, and strode into the hallway.

N4 waited until his footsteps died away before he dared to look up. He stared at the glossy wall where he knew other mechs could look inside. He set down the metal puzzle, and the processor-bursting anxiety that the survival programming had been pumping into him slowly died down. Fewer and fewer pings were sent to his processor, and the blaring red warning on his HUD turned a light orange.

He squeezed the puzzlecube in his hands, and it dented. A tiny satisfactory ping from his experimentation coding had his plating sagging in relaxation.

N4 continued playing with the puzzle, letting his older programs taking lead. The survival program did not power down, and it lingered in the back of his processor, urging him to look at the door just to check if no threat had gone through it.


	4. Chapter 4

N4 could still feel the drive to discover. It was most intriguing to see how the survival programming contradicted itself. Outside of the door was danger, but staying inside the room was just as dangerous. Cutwire was never without his armour, and N4 was never left to recharge without invasive cabling attached to his processor.

Staying in the room with Cutwire would be to ignore one of his primary directives, but leaving could result in his immediate offlining. Both options had equal risks, but where his survival programming seized up and looped indefinitely, his logic-core told him that discovery and experimentation could lead to survival. The ultimate survival. There was a word for it listed in his memorybanks, but 'safety' was not at all the word that N4 meant. Safety was an illusion, survival was not.

The new mix of programming allowed for prioritising. N4 still had enormous files detailing every single texture of his cell's walls, and he lamented all the lost time. All those breems of running his hand and dermal sensors over the surfaces of his room could have been spent on investigating Cutwire and the layout of the building.

Maybe before the survival-patch, he would have been happy with any new shred of information, or any manner of experimentation. With the survival programming, priorities shifted to things his processor hadn't even considered. Every cycle, Cutwire hooked a tube into his throat, where his fuel would trickle into his systems. Without that fuel, there was no survival, so N4 needed to find a sustainable source of fuel, or make one, if he wanted to survive.

Depending on Cutwire was not viable as a strategy for survival. N4's memorybanks had an uncanny habit to summon the memory file of the purple mech, shaking and twitching mindlessly after Hammertop had yanked his cords out of the ports.

It was a lucky coincidence that one of N4's priorities for survival was exactly the same as one of his primary directives; exploration. He had to delicately balance on the line between compliance and defiance.

N4's file on Cutwire's personality cortex was slim, but it was enough that he dared to ask his creator for freedom from his room. Two cycles after waking up with the survival programming, N4 spoke to his creator.

"Query; permission to fullfill primary objective .34 outside of designated room?"

Cutwire seemed taken aback, and N4's systems seized in preparation for a fight that his logic processors knew would not be happening. "Well- is the datapad no longer satisfactory?"

"Datapad is sufficient." N4 fabricated. "Explorative coding desires more."

Cutwire's optics narrowed a little, and he hummed. He jotted down a note on his datapad, and quirked a smile. "Well, you're all going to get a social patch in a few cycles. That should satisfy those coding urges for a bit..."

Cutwire gave him another datapad, and took the old one. He fiddled with the wires that connected N4 to the terminal-on-wheels, and murmured under his breath. "...probably still too effective...hmm..." N4 turned his head so he could see the terminal, and he watched his own code scroll over the screen. Cutwire removed a few lines, and N4's fingers dug into the table in an attempt to ignore his screaming survival programs.

It was impossible to tell what was being changed inside of his head. N4's logic processors were lost without concrete data, and the survival programming was spinning in an endless loop of contradicting ideas and outcomes.

Cutwire hummed a disjointed tune as he finished, and rolled the terminal out of the room, leaving the cubicle like nothing had happened. N4's head felt heavy with cords that the creator hadn't seen fit to put away, and he idly felt over their surface. He wondered if tugging them out would be more dangerous than leaving them in.

Cutwire could think that removing the cables was a little too smart for his programming, or he could think that it was a part of his exploring programs. N4 gripped the table like a lifeline, and reasoned that leaving the cables in was the best decision.. If he took them out, it would have to be under he guise of experimentation or exploration, and N4 reasoned that destruction of his creator's items was the most likely to get him destroyed.

N4 left the cables hanging from his processor, and played with the puzzles on the datapad as if it was the only thing that mattered in his world.

Before the survival patch, it would have been true.

0oo0

There were other mechs inside of the room, and N4 recognised them from when he had seen himself in the reflection of his datapad. Their identical blank yellow optics stared into his own, and all five of them stood in a messy circle while the creators uploaded the social program.

N4 was identical to all of them, and they were identical to him. They didn't speak and didn't move. N4's survival programming had him standing just as straight and emotionless as them. Acting out would be his death. Perhaps the other ones that were him, but not him, realised this as well.

N4 wished that he had the easy communication that Cutwire had. They were different from him. N2 kept turning his head to the tool-tray at the creator's bench, and Hammertop cursed at Cutwire for bad programming.

"How difficult is it to program a tiny nuance?!" Hammertop yelled. "The damned drone is just supposed to collect relevant and valuable objects in a legal and acceptable manner! You're coding a kleptomaniac, and this is gonna be the SEVENTH time we have to wipe it!"

Cutwire was nervous, and N4 watched enthralled as the calm mech's servos tapped nervously on his datapad. "I'll fix it, alright? Just a minor set-back...Boltwrench, can you get the social patches?..."

N4 had not correctly categorised Boltwrench. Bolt had been an affectionate nickname, and Boltwrench was the mech's complete name. N4 refused to admit to himself how much it mattered to him that he had stored false information. He just opened Bolt's file, and renamed it to Boltwrench.

Boltwrench himself had not been well documented by N4. All that he knew was that the mech interjected the useless word 'uh' into every sentence and appeared nervous no matter where he was. Boltwrench was tugging one of the other purple-coloured mechs away from Hammertop's toolbox, and Hammertop himself was carefully connecting one of the others to the huge computing unit that took up half the room.

It took effort to stand still and passive as Boltwrench plugged his ports full, and N4 purposefully calculated the falling path of a speck of dust so he could avoid looking at the monitor where Cutwire was selecting the program that would soon be installed.

N4 endured it all, and sucked up as much new information as he could. The sensation of programs deleting, installing and updating felt as if his frame was being manipulated like a puppet, but he did not make a peep. After only a few breems, the new programming activated, and N4's survival coding wailed. But his systems were still functional, and his memorybanks were only a few percent fuller.

"Alright... done! Now let's see some results! N-drones, interact!" Hammertop exclaimed with a grin, and N4 ignored him as best as he could. His new social programming weakly nudged to the surface, and he tugged a few opening lines from it.

"Hello, fellow N-drones. I am N4."

"Hello, fellow N-drones. I am N2."

"Hello, fellow N-drones. I am N1."

"Hello, fellow N-drones. I am N3."

"Hello, fellow N-drones. I am N5."

They all spoke at virtually the same time, and then fell silent. Cutwire laughed. "Hahah! Jinx!" Hammertop stared Cutwire down with a low hiss and the mech quickly looked down at his datapad.

Unsure of how to proceed, social program floundering, N4 remained quiet, and so did the other drones. Perhaps it would be best to speak up on a whim, and see if that would win him points with the creators. His survival coding reminded him that being different than the others could lead to scrutinisation, and more coding, more prodding in his mind. N4 held his vocaliser quiet, and waited for the next suggestion of his new 'social' programming.

"Excuse me, I did not mean to talk over you." One of the others said. Remembering the round of introductions, N4 deducted that the speaker had been N3. N4 watched as the drone made a small bow. His own social programming had not suggested the action to him, but after a worried look, he found that the other N-numbers had not bowed either.

"That is quite alright." N4 spoke in perfect unison with numbers 1, 2, and 5. He could hear Cutwire's stubby fingers tapping on his datapad, and N4 tried to ignore the confused flaring of his survival programming. Act out? Act the same? Act out? Act the same?!

Logic was again his saving grace. Act as if exploring. Follow the primary objective- it is what they want to see. It is what will let you survive, for long enough to take it in your own servos. His logic centres were hard and cold, and oh so welcome in the heated circuitry in his frame.

"Query: primary objectives?" He ventured, and his social programming gave him a quick ping. "My own primary objectives are exploration, discovery, and s-ssurvival."

He hoped that the creators had not noted his hesitance at stating his third primary objective. It felt dangerous, to utter that survival was also part of his primary objectives. The creators knew everything about his programming. As long as they believed he acted only out of discovery and experimentation, they would be satisfied. They would not wipe him.

N1 twitched violently as he answered in a flat voice. "Primary objective: protect and secure." A small pause. "Nice to see you."

N4's social programming picked it out like the platitude it was, and he turned his attention to the other drones, watching the creators from the edge of his vision.

"Primary directive; Collecting and protecting." N2 said.

"Primary directive;Calming and interacting with Cybertronians. Solving social conflict." N3 answered in a dead monotone.

"Military. Offensive and defensive actions against any hostile." N5's vocaliser grated. N4 found it logical. The mech's primary directive explained why the drone had his limbs strapped tightly against his body, and why his protoform was heavily damaged.

The conversation fell silent, and N4 watched with growing anxiety as the other drones stared blankly ahead. N3 was the one to break the silence. "What a weather today, don't you think?"

N4's social programming informed him that it was a manoeuvre to prevent possible awkwardness in a group setting. He remained silent, and took in the scene as N3 continued to spit out random splurts of text and assurances that their environment was safe and that communication was desired. A quick little look at his creators and Hammertop's narrowed optics told N4 a lot about what the creator thought about their progress.

N4 quickly returned to the inane replica of conversation, and followed the basic nudges of his social programming. No acting out. Not with Hammertop frowning.

"Alright, that's enough. Shut your vocalisers, all of you." Hammertop said, and the forced conversation fell quiet. Hammertop flipped through a few pages on his datapad and then tossed it down on one of the tabled. Boltwrench flinched and Cutwire frowned at the N-drone ensemble.

Hammertop growled. "Fragging drones... They ALWAYS need more AI!" He moved to the terminal and started scrolling through the five different sets of coding that belonged to him and the other N-drones. "More coding, more patches, less loopholes, no bugs-... frag these useless things..."

Hammertop paused, and N4's intakes stalled as he watched the creator magnified his file. What had he found? What had caught his attention? Could he run? Should he run? Should he fight?

N4 found that he could no neither as Hammertop hummed and tapped a finger on the terminal.

"...survival protocols... That's right." Hammertop turned to Boltwrench. "Have you tested that yet? Does it work?"

"Uh, well, that 'self-discovery self-disassembly' issue was fixed, but uh, besides that I didn't get to test yet. Since uh, N1's new patch hasn't made him crash yet." Hammertop looked at Cutwire, and N4 saw the larger mech bulk up with pride.

"I like to think that I got that nasty contradiction out of the coding this time, he's passed the first three tests." Cutwire preened.

Hammertop's optics suddenly bore straight into N4's, and he froze. Being singled out was bad, and there was just not enough information to see to his survival. Don't run. Don't show distress or they will know you are different, and they will wipe your systems!

"Well, I got time." Hammertop drawled, and he ushered the other drones aside. "Let's do a little test right now." Hammertop walked over to N5 and started undoing its bindings.

Cutwire shook his head. "No, the results from the other programs aren't in yet! "

Hammertop turned around. "You made a copy of it this morning, didn't you? No data lost, no harm done... Do you have a better idea on how to test N4 and N5?" Cutwire sighed, and waved a hand in a mockery of consent for the experiment.

Boltwrench was standing by the side and looked both anxious and excited as Hammertop started to undo the bindings on N5's limbs. N4 watched as his fellow drone clenched and unclenched his servos obsessively.

N5 was military. Offensive and defensively programmed. N4 studied the other mech as intensely as he could, and tried to stop his thin plating from clamping up to protect his protoform. His audials picked up on Cutwire tapping on his datapad and making an observatory 'hmm'. N4 kept his composure, standing straight and at ease even as his survival protocols were running calculations at his top speed.

Hammertop snapped his fingers a few times in front of N5's optic, and then pointed slowly at N4. "That is your target. " N5 did not react, and Hammertop reached behind the drone's head, pulling at something-

N5 charged forward and N4's survival programming finally won over the rest of his coding. Discovery, exploration, experimentation, remaining under the radar for his creators- useless, worthless, unimportant because _N5 was going to crush his frame._

N4 dove out of the way and his hands scrabbled over the room floor. N5 was already after him and N4 simply ran. He threw his frame against the door that would have led out to the hallway, and knew that he would not be able to put in the code he'd spied off off Boltwrench fast enough.

N5's punch hit him in the shoulder and he slammed himself against his assaulter, trying to slip past. His legs bumped against one of the tables and his audials registered a squeaky 'meep' coming from the direction of his creators.

All his focus zoomed onto the three double opticed mechs, and he ran in their direction. They stumbled backwards and N4 lunged to hide behind them, N5's ventilations hot on his back. N4 could actually see Cutwire's optics widening in shock as he tried to pull the mech in front of him as a shield against the drone soldiers-

"OVERRIDE – !" Hammertop roared the words, and N4 felt his engine stall. His struts locked and he crumpled to the ground like a doll. N5 landed on top of him with an heft gush of warm air, and from the corner of his optic N4 could see the other N-models in a similar state on the ground.

"That was... interesting. It could really use a couple of patches." Hammertop and Cutwire lifted N5 off of N4, and started restraining him again. "Took too long for the program to kick in, but it fared better than I thought. Good work Boltwrench."

N4 could feel the feeling return in his limbs, and he pushed himself upright. He still wanted to flee the room, and stay away from N5 and the creators at all costs, but it would only get him hooked to a terminal again. No. He needed to survive- he had survived for now, and he would continue to do so.

Hammertop spoke again. "It reacted pretty late though. It should have been able to see the attack coming." N4 stood up and kept himself rigid. "Cutwire, how far along are you with the experiments on that one's primaries?"

"Oh, I got discovery pretty much mapped out. Experimentation too." Cutwire answered as he shoved a table back to where it was. "I'm still working on that glitch it had. Bolt's survival coding is working well enough, but overall efficiency is down by 15%."

"Hm... Definitely not refined enough then. Cutwire, see if you can work out that self-disassembly glitch within the discovery programs. We'll wipe him and try the experiment without the survival protocols."

N4 listened in trembling silence as his creators planned a date for his offlining. His fuel lines were tingling and his processor was spinning out of control. Survive. Survive. His optic focused on the door, knowing that an escape attempt would not be successful. He hadn't been able to open the door when N5 had been set to kill him, and it was still closed. No escape.

"Give me six cycles. That should be enough to finish up and rework the coding." Cutwire said. Hammertop grunted in response.

Six cycles. In six cycles, N4's creators were going to keep him from fulfilling his most important objective.

"Uh, wouldn't it be better to do it sooner?" Boltwrench said. "I mean, since N6 got destroyed we're, uh, kinda lagging. With our experiments."

N4 swore that one of his systems stopped working right then and there, but Hammertop frowned. "And you think Clinchthird is going to accept unfinished reports? Get real Bolt, and get yourself a vocaliser update while you're at it."

N4 stared ahead as the creators rounded them together again, and continued testing the new social programming. N4 was a perfect drone, and followed the suggestions of the program like he should. In his processor he was frantically combining and twisting every piece of information he had in the idle hope that would show him his angle at survival.

Before that day's recharge cycle, Cutwire fed him more fuel than usual, and N4's pre-installed infopackets helpfully supplied the notion of a 'dead mech's meal'.


	5. Chapter 5

Before the new patch, N4 hadn't known any apprehension of offlining. He simply existed to follow his objectives, and nothing else mattered. The coding had changed that peaceful following of his code. It had been so simple. Online, access primary coding, and simply follow it.

The survival coding never slept. N4 was sure that it worked and buzzed even as his frame was brought offline. The coding made him ever alert and suspicious, because each threat ignored could spell his demise. A failing of his primary objective. Sometimes, N4 was convinced that his survival programming would drive him to insanity with how often it tried to mark his other directives as danger.

But that same restlessness had ensured that he knew what was happening. He had seen N2's memorycore being wiped, deleted to make place for something better. With the coding active, N4 could see that for the threat it was.

And now, he had six cycles to save himself. In his time under Cutwire's care, his memorybanks had been filled up to 3%, and it was barely anything useful. The datapads left for him were cast aside as soon as Cutwire left, and the escape plans started.

Maybe the creators already knew what he was doing- they had created his coding after all. Maybe it was all a test. That did not mean they weren't serious about wiping him clean. Everything he had worked for would have been gone.

Sometimes, as he was attempting to find the code to the doorlock by process of elimination and memory of Cutwire's typing rhythm, he wondered about the absurdity of it all. He had been created to follow his code to the letter, and what was his reward? To be wiped clean. Was it really his fault that his creators couldn't decide what they wanted?!

At the end of six planetary cycles, he would be gone. The first cycle was a frantic exercise in prioritising his data and trying to obtain more information. He even took Cutwire's datapads, in the hope that one of them contained the vital bits of information he needed.

As it turned out, that cycle's datapad was filled with irregular numbers and a hidden recipe for copper-flavoured fuel. No useful data of any sort. All he had was the promise of six cycles and a processor full of worthless numerical strings.

At some point during the first cycle, Cutwire came to check up on him, and N4 struggled to uphold the image of a drone preoccupied with a dustball in the corner of his datapad. The first cycle ended, and he had not even managed to sneak a look at the code to his room.

The second cycle was much of the same. He spent all his time trying to find a panel he could tear from the wall, or an airduct big enough to hold him. He found nothing, and Boltwrench almost caught him trying to open the door by digging his fingers in the seams between the door and the doorframe.

The third cycle was spent battling the urges of his survival programming. He stuck to the datapad, and took in the useless information much like a starving mech would take in a cube of energon.

The fourth cycle was much of the same, only that he was once again put with the other N-drones and given a patch on his social programming. On his way to the examination room he had taken a note of every door, corner, hallway and wall. He had a small map in his mind's eye, and it was an small comfort to know anything outside of the room he was confined in.

On the fifth cycle, Cutwire had him doing tests and tasks. The creator never left the room, and was checking over his frame as N4 fulfilled the tasks he'd been given.

There had not been a spark of inspiration, nor had there been anything he could have used. The survival programming had suggested an attack on Cutwire, but the door was locked, and N4 had no information regarding an attack on another mech. The survival program told him to fight, but there was simply nothing in his processor that could tell him where to aim, or what to do. All he had was the jumbled memory of N5 charging at him like a mechanimal.

Cutwire actually noticed the trembling in his frame as he moved to put N4 in his recharge on the fifth cycle. "I should check that..." He murmured, and then N4 was dragged into the darkness of recharge.

0oo0

N4 awoke in darkness. The lights of his cubicle were all off, and there were hands feverishly plucking the cables out of N4's ports. An integrated alarm bleeped, but they quickly silenced. N4 enhanced the night vision of his optic, and was met with the sight of Boltwrench freeing him from his cables. Was it time?

The lights in the hallway were all dimmed, and the usual sounds of the facility were absent. It was late, his preprogrammed information told him. N4 had never experienced night.

"Creator." He said.

Boltwrench nearly jumped out of his plating, and his frightened optics landed on N4. "-! …. N4! Uh- I... I'm here to rescue you. Yea?"

Boltwrench had not rescued him when N5 had attacked. Hammertop had been the one to call out their temporary failsafes, and N4 did not believe the finicky bot. He did not say that to Boltwrench. The creator fidgeted and pulled loose the last few wires.

"Uh, don't worry- I can get you out of here so you can, uh-... follow your primary programs, yea." Boltwrench carefully grabbed N4's servo, and slowly pulled him into the dark hallway.

"It's... uh, you know. I wrote the survival program, you know?" He said. "I know what you're going through. Uh, kinda."

N4 followed his creator through the hallways, mapping the twists and turns he hadn't seen before. His survival programs were purring at top speeds, steadily sifting through the new data, keeping his optic focused on the only perceived threat in the vicinity.

"I'll help you out, yea? It's the least I can do..." Boltwrench sounded like he was talking to himself, and N4 let the mech pull him down a new hallway. One of the other N-bots sat online in his cubicle, yellow optic staring stoically through the open door.

Boltwrench started walking faster. "I, uh... I have a machine. It'll make it look like you fried your circuits, and I'll throw you out. With the garbage. Uh, if that's not a problem."

N4 let Boltwrench lead him around, but his survival programs were on full power, and balking at the mention of cables in his ports. N4 wanted out, and he wanted out reliably. He didn't trust Boltwrench. Memoryfiles of N5's attack and the memory wipe from Hammertop came back up in his processor, and N4 looked at where Boltwrench held his hand. He had cables in his frame, didn't he?

N4's experimentation programs spun up, and N4 could almost see the fusion of the two memories happening in his processor. It was no longer N5 lunging at him, but it was him, lunging at Boltwrench. It was no longer Hammertop jamming a cable into the purple drone, but N4 putting his cable in the neck of his creator.

N4's walking pace almost faltered, and he slowed down. Boltwrench sent him a worried look. N4 had no idea of what would happen if he plugged into his creator. His survival programs seemed to bristle in his mind, but ultimately, N4 had been built for traversing the unknown, and playing with it. All he needed was a little insurance.

"Creator?" He asked.

"Y-yea?"

"What if we are found?"

Boltwrench seemed to sag as the tension left his frame, and he gave N4 a shaky smile. "Oh, uh, don't worry about that. Everyone's at home. The facility opens in about six joors. Uh, we need to hurry if we wanna make your escape look good." Boltwrench started pulling at him again, and his gaze slipped away from N4, instead focusing on the path ahead of them.

N4's discovery programs, experimental program, and survival coding all purred in his processor, and N4 pulled back one of his hands in the fist he had seen N5 make. With a sharp invent, he yanked Boltwrench back by the arm the creator was holding onto. The mech sprawled on the floor with a loud clank, and N4 slammed his balled hand onto Boltwrench's frame. He kicked out with his pede and hit the creator in his torso.

"Ow! S-scrap-! NO-stop-ugrh-! OVERRI-!" N4 recognised the command immediately, and he jumped on top of his creator, jamming his fingers into Boltwrench's mouth. The mech bit down, and N4 felt his fingers snapping in between the other's denta. The mech was bucking and fighting like he'd snapped a processor cable, and N4 could feel important components crushing from the frantic struggles.

Pain like he'd never known it before jolted through his frame, but if he relented, everything would be over. Through the pain, N4 grabbed at one of the fuel lines he could see in between the shifting armourplates.

His fingers could barely fit in between the narrowed gaps, but his fingers snagged on the fuel line. It tore open and got fluids began running over his hand and he tried to dig deeper. Boltwrench was screaming around N4's fingers as N4 tore out a handful of sparking and dripping wires. The shriek echoed in his audials.

N4 reached in again, and grabbed another load of wires. Boltwrench was trying to push him off, and N4 could feel the mech's fingers trying to rup circuitry from his own frame. N4 deemed it irrelevant. As long as he survived, he could take whatever damage Boltwrench dealt. He dislocated a piece of Boltwrench's armour, and grabbed at the first thing he could read. It broke apart in his hands like an orb of glass, discharging a blast of energy, and Boltwrench's frame collapsed like a heap of spare parts.

N4 had survived, and his programming pumped him full with artificial triumph. With steady hands he pulled out his cables, and pushed them into the ports on Boltwrench's head. The processors were offline, but the memorybanks were intact. The depraved systems were trying to drain energy from his frame, and N4 took all the stored information he could find. Victory course through his veins like fire.

When he pulled away, his memorybanks read at 34% capacity, and his processors were spinning to prioritise all the new information. The complete map of the fascility shone in his processor. The complete file on his frametype and serial number, the location of the facility, the roads, the rules, the laws, the dialects the cities the roadsthealtformstheenergonthereligonsthe rebellion-!

N4 stood up shakily from the corpse of his creator, and turned around. The route Boltwrench had been planning only led to the best fortified containment chamber, and N4 had no intentions of staying. With Boltwrench's information in his processors, he finally had a plan.


	6. Chapter 6

N4 walked down the identical hallways, and passed through the shadows of a facility in shut-down.

The endless doors no longer held the same mystique as they had before. Boltwrench's memories ensured that he knew exactly what resided behind each door. Most of them were empty storage spaces, meant for wares and equipment that had been expected to arrive three decacycles ago. His creator's funding had been cut.

N4 took a left, and passed by the small room that housed N2. The bot inside was still awake even with all the cables attached to his ports, and his arms were wrapped tightly around a small heap of collected junk. N4 didn't spare him a second glance

The corridors remained empty and dark, almost haunting, and N4's processors fished up old memories from Boltwrench, about whooping alarms and flashing lights. Video files, fiction. Not real.

N4 stopped at N5's door. The bot was restrained to his chair, and stuffed with cables from the top of his helm to his pedes. There were claw-gouges all over the table and floors, and an old splatter of energon on the ground.

N4 entered the code for the door, and it slid open.

He carefully manoeuvred himself behind N5, and started pulling loose the necessary cables. The bot onlined when he pulled loose the last cable from the back of the head, but it did not matter. From Boltwrench's memories, he knew that it only attacked on command.

The terminals blipped online, and still there were no blaring alarms calling out his escape. N4 entered Boltwrench's passcode, and searched through the many redundant files. There were notes and memos scattered across the files, and pictures of a blue femme with white and orange accents.

N4's memorybanks played a bit of audio. A soft laugh with an edge as if the person laughing had a few grains of sand in their vocaliser.

N4 halted, and looked at the myriad of useless memorydata that showed itself at the simple picture that Boltwrench had chosen to display on his account. Boltwrench had marked everything about the individual as 'high priority'. N4 deleted the picture and the audio file. He would have to delete the rest at a later point.

He took out his own cables, and plugged them into the chassis of N5. The yellow visor of the other bot was fixed on his face in a relentless stare, even as N4 started to copy its military programming and preparing it for installation.

The data stream took long. At least a joor of uneasy silence had passed since their uplink, but still the halls remained dark and empty. When the data slowed to a trickle and finally nothing, N4 disconnected and left the cubicle as it was, with N5 staring after him.

The way to the fire-exit was almost humorously easy to find, and he took a moment to linger before the door. The identical hallways behind him with empty rooms and old equipment were about to be left behind forever.

N4 let the anticipation build, and then pushed open the door to the outside world.

He had briefly reviewed Boltwrench's memory of the outside world. Wind past his dermal plating, bits of metaldust whipping around his pedes... but the flimsy data captures did not compare to reality. N4's survival protocols shut up for the first moment since their installation, and N4 felt as if everything was right with the world.

He kneeled, and raked his uninjured fingers through the thin layer of metal dust that had collected on the ground, and documented the feeling like he had been programmed to do. It felt like coming home, and N4's optic dimmed as the new sensations fell into place in his memorybanks.

Something in the distance honked loudly, and the survival protocols reactivated within a klik, closely followed by new and ungainly combat coding. N4 shot back up to his feet, and the world had already lost its precious glimmer. The wind was an irrelevant touch to his plating, and the wonderous sights of unexplored territory had changed into a hostile minefield. It was no longer an enjoyable sight.

The facility was lying in the middle of an industrial terrain, and one of Cybertron's moons illuminated the dull metal buildings. Smoke drifted from the facilities, and a dimly lit road wove in between the buildings. A bit further on the horizon, the vibrant lights of Iacon reflected on the sparse bits of smoke floating along.

N4 remembered the road to the public transit-lines, and a vague schedule popped up that told him a transport would leave every 33 breems.

N4 descended the three-step ladder to the ground and started on his way to the public transport. Without an alt-mode, it was a long walk. He met nobody on the road, and no matter how hard his survival programming was trying to convince him, there was no reason to rush.

There were no alarms when he bought several tickets to all four of the greatest cities to cover his tracks, and nobody stopped him when he boarded a speed-shuttle to Kaon.

People looked, but nobody touched or talked to him. That was just fine. N4 exited the transport and started looking for a shop to upgrade his armour. As a side-thought, he visited an illegal workshop, where a bright red bot replaced his broken servo with a canon. Then he withdrew all of Boltwrench's credits and used his social programming to greet an enforcer on the way out.

He entered into an abandoned building, and hacked the password on the industrial terminal.

The inside was clammy and dark. The metal was rusting away in dark orange and there were signs of metallic vermin chewing their way through. N4 dragged a large table to the most intact room, and looked at his dull reflection of the surface.

Outside of the old builing, he could hear the sound of mechs zooming by in their alts. The sound of the wind was almost a moan as it slipped through gaps in the metal walls, and a steady dripping of oil ensured that everything smelled heavy and thick.

N4 soaked in the sensations for joors, optic dim and servos loose. His pre-programmed datapacket came up empty when trying to describe the feeling. Boltwrench's memories whispered a simple word;

_Freedom. _


End file.
